


if this world starts getting you down

by twohourstraffic



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Ableist Language, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Fic, New Year's Eve, Overdosing, Pre-Canon, Protectiveness, Rehabilitation, parenting is hard, toddler Jack playing hockey, y2k was terrifying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twohourstraffic/pseuds/twohourstraffic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Alicia and Bob defended Jack, and one time they didn’t need to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1991

Alicia has just finished nursing Jack in the one beam of winter sunshine she can find when the phone rings. Jack’s almost asleep and she just can’t be bothered to stand up, so she lets the answering machine get it.

_Hi, you’ve reached the Zimmermanns. Please leave a message after the tone._

_“Alicia, honey? It’s Susan. I need you to get a copy of this week’s People Magazine, look at page 35 and then let me know what you want to do. I guess you’ll want to put out a statement? Or contact them? I’m honestly not sure. Talk to Bob and get back to me, OK? Talk to you later.”_

Jesus.

She pulls on jeans, a sweater and a baseball cap, gets Jack wrapped up and makes the ten-minute drive to the nearest grocery store. They need a few things, so she takes the opportunity to pick up some apples, a bag of lentils for soup and a loaf of bread, then grabs a copy of the magazine as she heads through the checkout. If it’s as bad as her agent made it sound, she’s not going to look until they get back home.

It sits on the passenger seat, catching her eye every time she glances at the rear view mirror. There’s a story about Princess Diana on the front cover, some by-line about _Days Of Our Lives_ , and Linda Evangelista’s latest alleged fling.

Alicia makes it home in record time, gets Jack situated on his play mat in the living room, and then braces herself. Turns to page 35.

It’s just a puff piece within a magazine of puff pieces, based on total speculation, one page in the gossip section, and yet –

She skims the article, sits down heavily at the kitchen table and bursts into angry, helpless tears.

 

> **Zimmermann baby reveals plastic surgery secret? Experts weigh in!  
>  ** **By Jessica Pattinson**
> 
> When Alicia Zimmermann’s son made his photo shoot debut in Vanity Fair last week, we can’t have been the only ones who were … surprised.
> 
> Not by the ever-stunning Zimmermann, star of catwalk and screen, or her husband (Robert ‘Bad Bob’ Zimmermann, captain of the NHL’s Pittsburgh Penguins). The actress, clad in timeless Balenciaga, was the epitome of glowing motherhood; her husband, in the middle of a Stanley Cup campaign, looked tired but happy.
> 
> But experts are suggesting that their son’s appearance hints at a dark past that no-one could have predicted.
> 
> When Alicia Zimmermann burst on the scene at the age of 24, she was Alicia Hooper, small-town Californian girl with a head of hair that would rival Cindy Crawford and an ambitious streak that wouldn’t quit. Her legendary 1985 walk for Vivienne Westwood saw her rocket to fame, and she hasn’t left the limelight since then. She has modelled for Levi’s, Calvin Klein and Dior. She has a perfume named after her, for crying out loud.
> 
> However, Jack doesn’t appear to have inherited any of that. Or, indeed, his father’s looks. The only similarity that we can see is eye colour.
> 
> To put it lightly, their child is … strange-looking. And experts are suggesting that the only logical explanation is that Alicia Zimmermann’s legendary looks aren’t as natural as we first thought.
> 
> According to plastic surgeon Nathaniel Rodrigues, it is not an unusual state of affairs. “People often forget that plastic surgery doesn’t affect their genes, and that their ‘old face’ will be passed onto their child. It’s possible that even her husband didn’t know about this before their baby came along.”
> 
> We hope that we’re wrong – that he’ll develop his mother’s cheekbones and grow into the dynasty in which he has been born.
> 
> Until then … good luck?

There’s a diagram of her face, arrows pointing to each feature which it is possible to operate upon. She can forgive the attack on herself – she’s spent ten years in the limelight, is as used to it as anyone can be. It’s almost funny. But a five-month old?

It’s a bridge too fucking far.

Alicia looks over at her gorgeous son. Jack is lying in the middle of the floor, sucking his toes through his socks. She walks over and sits cross-legged next to him, poking him gently in the leg when he doesn’t immediately look up. He smiles at her, two perfect teeth poking through his lower gum.

“Hi, baby,” she murmurs softly. Early in her pregnancy, she and Bob had agreed to speak French with Jack, but she’s upset and furious and – well, it’s hardly going to hurt.

He burbles happily, reaching out to wrap a tiny hand around her fingers.

“Do you know what an asshole is, beautiful? It’s someone who writes an article about a baby and sells it to a magazine. It’s someone who gets paid to say unkind things about a _child_. I cannot fucking – I just –”

Jack, seemingly sensing her frustration, reaches out to her. She scoops him into her arms and hugs him tightly, only loosening her grasp when he lets out an indignant squawk. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry. But I cannot believe that –”

She peppers his face, his head, his hands with kisses, doing what she can to get as close as she can to this tiny person, who she has sworn to protect with her life. He squirms, disgruntled, but allows her to love on him for a few minutes.

The phone rings, and she plants one more kiss on Jack’s cheek before clambering up to answer it. “Hello?”

Her husband’s voice comes down the phone. “Hi, Alicia, it’s me. Did you see the article?”

“Of course I saw it. Susan phoned while I was feeding Jack, I ran and got the magazine the second I was done. I cannot believe the _nerve_ of these people – where the fuck do they get off? I just –”

“I know.”

“What are we going to do about this? Susan was wondering about a statement, but do you think we can sue? I don’t know if it’ll pass for defamation, but we might be able to get a misuse of the photo? Although, if Vanity Fair licensed it, there’s nothing we can do. And I guess they could talk about him anyway, but it’s not _right_ , he’s –”

“I don’t know what the answer is, honey. I’ll be home soon, OK? We just wrapped up here.”

She breathes deeply. “Yeah, sure. Drive safely. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Alicia hangs up the phone and turns back to Jack, who is trying and failing to reach the toys hanging above his head. She watches for a few minutes, before picking him up and sitting down on the sofa with him. She softly hums Carole King songs to him while he attempts to chew her fingers. She’s so caught up in trying to avoid him swallowing one of her rings that she barely registers the sound of the car outside before her husband bursts through the door, startling Jack who contemplates panicking until he notices who it is. Before Alicia knows what’s happening, Jack is happily in his father’s arms, one tiny hand reaching up to grab his hair. Bob looks like he’s about to burst into tears.

“I just can’t believe that they –”

“I know, sweetheart,” she says, as calmly as she can. “Don’t worry. I know.”

This is something Alicia can do. The two balance each other well – she’s all righteous indignation, he’s raw emotion. She moves through tears to productivity at a pace that can be, quite frankly, frightening to the uninitiated. He’s quicker to anger, but takes longer to process. He listens to her shouting, she soothes his nerves in the best way she can.

“He’s just a _baby_ , and I – He doesn’t deserve _any_ of this.”

“And that’s why we’re going to fuck them up,” she says with a smile. “Can John handle this, or will I ask Susan for a recommendation? He’s more contracts, yeah? We might need someone with experience dealing with actual scum.”

“May be better to ask Susan,” Bob says after a minute of bouncing Jack on his shoulder. Jack is nuzzling into Bob’s shoulder, sighing calmly and pushing his nose into Bob’s neck. “Anyone who messes with this little ray of sunshine deserves everything they have coming to them.”

“Damn straight,” Alicia says, crossing behind her husband to poke Jack in the nose. “We’re going to fuck them up, baby,” she coos. "They're going to regret the day they crossed the Zimmermanns."

Jack grins happily at her.

* * *

**Official statement from Alicia and Bob Zimmermann regarding the publication of ‘** **Zimmermann baby reveals plastic surgery secret? Experts weigh in!’ in People Magazine**

_We have been hurt, upset and offended by the publication of this article. Although we have both decided to involve ourselves in professions which inherently open us to scrutiny, our child has not. People Magazine should be ashamed to be selling sensationalist magazines by insulting infants. We are seeking a formal apology from the Time Inc. organization and have donated all money from the original photoshoot to Save The Children USA. Furthermore, we have applied for an injunction to restrain the publication of any article mentioning either of us until this apology has been achieved. We look forward to a time when news organizations choose to show moral integrity in publication, rather than struggling to reach the lowest common denominator._


	2. 1994

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob and Jack go sunrise skating. Jack discovers what protein is.

"Papa? Are you awake?"

The whisper cuts through the sleep-heavy room like a whip.

Bob's wakes with a start and he blinks furiously, trying to focus his eyes. Standing in front of him, bed-hair sticking up in all directions, is Jack.

"Jack, is everything OK? Actually, what time is it?"

Jack thrusts his new-for-his-birthday digital watch, complete with its glowing orange screen, in his father's face. He's beaming. Alicia has been teaching him numbers, mainly so he'll stop waking them up so early.

"It's a five, Papa. Maman said that I could go to the rink with you if I woke up at a five instead of a seven."

"That's not what I said, sweetheart," Alicia groans from behind Bob, face crushed into her pillow. "I said that if you wanted to skate with Papa before work, you would have to wake up at a five so he could bring you home again before he goes to the gym and –"

"Exactly!" Jack beams. "And it's a five, so we can go skate now, please, and I thought –"

"– And remember how I was saying that this is why you can't go to the rink with Papa? Because it's so early? And Papa will be asleep?"

"But he's not asleep!" Jack protests. "He's awake and I'm awake, so we can eat a banana and take our vitamins and brush our teeth and then go skate!"

"I'm going to let you deal with this one, honey," Alicia mutters as she rolls over and plants a sleepy kiss on Bob's shoulder. Bob returns the kiss before groaning softly.

"Are you going to go back to sleep if I say no, Jack?"

Jack scoffs as only a four-year-old can. "I'm awake now, so it's time for breakfast and skating. I want a banana and some strawberries, please."

"It's November, Jack," Alicia mutters softly.

"No strawberries today, kid. But I think we could find some toast with peanut butter. Lots of protein."

Bob forces himself out of bed before taking Jack by the hand and leading him down to the kitchen.

Jack tugs at his hand impatiently. "Papa!"

"Sorry, Jack. I wasn't listening. What did you say?"

"What's protein?"

It is too early.

"It's something that's in some foods. It makes you strong and gives you lots of energy. It's perfect if you're going to go skate. Like we are, apparently."

"Is rice bubbles protein?" Jack asks as he pulls himself up to sit at the counter. Bob kisses the top of his head before heading over to turn on the coffee machine.

"There's no protein in rice bubbles, but there is protein in milk. You know how it makes your bones strong and helps you grow taller? That's protein. And also calcium, but that's a different good thing."

"OK. Can I have peanut butter toast for protein and also banana, please?"

Bob gives Jack a smile as he makes himself a coffee. The caffeine slowly floods his veins until he's able to throw slices of bread into the toaster and chop up a banana.

"Is banana protein?" Jack asks, his mouth full.

"I don't think so. It has potassium though."

"What's that?"

Bob is distracted by spreading peanut butter on Jack's toast, so he doesn't think before he says, "It's a chemical. It stops your muscles getting sore." He turns back to Jack in time to catch him spitting out his latest bite of banana.

"Jack! Manners!"

Jack looks like he's about to pass out. "But banana is a chemical like for the kitchen. Chemicals make you sick! Isabelle told me that Daniel ate a chemical and he had to go to the doctor. And he wasn't allowed to go to the zoo because he was in bed. His babysitter came and he couldn't watch TV."

It is _far_ too early.

"Did Daniel get sick from eating a banana?"

“No, but his maman said that you have to be careful with chemicals or else you’ll get sick.”

Bob sighs. “Did he get sick from banana chemicals?”

“No,” Jack says through a mouthful of toast. “From kitchen chemicals.”

“OK,” Bob says. “So it sounds like you’ll be fine with eating banana chemicals.”

“I guess.”

“Thank you. Now eat your breakfast and let’s go. We’ve got skating to do.”

* * *

"Is toothpaste protein?"

“No, sweetheart.”

“But it makes your teeth stronger.”

“That’s true.”

“And you have to have it or else you’ll hurt.”

“I guess.”

“So it’s protein?”

“Sure, Jack.”

* * *

"Is gas protein? Is that how the car drives?"

“I’m sure it is. It was dinosaurs once, so I guess it must have some protein in it.”

A shriek comes from the back seat. “Gas is _dinosaurs_?”

* * *

Bob checks Jack’s laces one more time before kissing him on the cheek. “OK. You ready to go, kid?”

Jack responds by standing up from the bench and wobbling his way over to the ice of the team’s practice rink. He’s still unsure about walking on skates, but two feet on the ice and he’s gliding like he was born there. He speeds over to the other wall, bumping into it with a giggle, then turns around in a clumsy pirouette.

Bob throws on his own skates and hustles onto the ice. He does a few laps to try and wake up his body before focusing on Jack, who has made his way into the centre and is skating backwards in hesitant circles. He’s muttering softly to himself, his hands holding an invisible stick. Just like his father.

“Race you!” Bob calls to him. “Ready? Set…”

Jack grins cheekily and darts off before ‘go’. Bob takes it slow, trailing behind him, but Jack isn’t bad. More than that – he’s pretty phenomenal for his age. Bob and Alicia already discussing putting him onto the local team when he starts school, but Bob is secretly wondering if he might be too good for his age group.

If he wants, one day, he’ll be a force to be reckoned with.

He’s so vulnerable, though – tiny for his age, with messy hair and huge eyes, and terribly shy around people with whom he’s not familiar. He still clings to his mother’s hand when he visits her on set. He sucks his thumb when he thinks no-one is watching. He’s afraid of the dark.

Bob is so torn between wanting to see Jack realise his obvious potential, and wanting to protect him from the world for as long as is humanly possible. He knows, better than most, that the industry isn’t one for weak personalities.

“I beat you, Papa!” Jack calls through his giggles.

“You sure did, honey,” Bob says with a smile.

Jack skates past for a high five before moving towards the bench to grab his hockey stick. He seizes it determinedly in two tiny hands and lets it lead him towards the practice goal set up at one end of the rink. Although he doesn’t have a puck, he’s manoeuvring his stick like a pro. Bob follows him subtly, straining to hear his running commentary.

“And Jack comes up, he’s ready, he’s open. Thomas passes it to him, he passes to Caroline, who passes it back. Jack shoots … He scores! Yay!” Jack throws his arms in the air, skating a victory lap around the crease.

Bob can’t help his grin. The kid used to sit, transfixed, in front of hockey games when he was a toddler, although clearly the more colourful elements of the commentary haven’t rubbed off. Yet.

Thank goodness.

Jack starts skating up and down the rink, moving his feet in complicated patterns which make sense to him alone. He occasionally gets tangled in himself, but always manages to find his balance before he topples.

He really is a natural.

After twenty minutes or so, Bob notices movement in his periphery and looks over to spot a teammate. He grins when he notices who it is. A relatively new import from the AHL, Steven Brown is still trying to prove himself by practicing at all hours.

“Bob!” Browny calls in English. “Wait, is that Jack? What the hell are you two doing here? It’s only just 7:00 – I thought I’d be alone.”

“Sorry, man! Must have lost track of the time.”

“No problem, bud. I’m going to go change – you good to wrap up soon? I really need to run some drills, and I don’t think you want me bulldozing your kid.”

“Sure,” Bob says with a smile. “Not an issue. Let me just see if I can get this one moving – it might take a few minutes.”

Browny nods and heads into the locker room, duffle bag over his shoulder.

Bob turns back to his son, who seems to be running some drills of his own. It’s not clear what he’s trying to achieve, but he’s balanced his stick on the boards and is skating backwards and forwards, tapping it every time he passes. It looks like he’s having fun, anyway.

“Jack, sweetheart,” Bob calls. “It’s time to go home, OK? Steven needs the rink to himself for a while.”

“Five more minutes, please,” Jack calls, grabbing his stick and skating off into the distance. He comes within spitting distance of the boards before executing a frankly nauseating turn and zipping back towards his father. He giggles delightedly as he goes, arms wide in a clear plea for a hug. Bob indulges him, catching him mid-ice and swooping him into a spin.

Jack shrieks with laughter.

Before having children, Bob had always thought he’d be the disciplinarian – it’s turned out that he’s just too damn enraptured by his son. “Two more minutes, Jack. I’m going to go and take my skates off, OK? When I’ve got my shoes on, it’s time to go.”

Jack has already skated off again. Bob watches him go with a smile, before turning back to his skates. By the time he’s unlaced and shoved on his boots, Jack has disappeared down the other end of the rink and is spinning in dizzying circles, laughing hysterically.

Bob tries to put on his best poker face. “Jack, can I have you on the bench, please?”

“One more minute, Papa. I’m just going to do a few more things and then it will be time to go home. And I can tell Maman that I finished my drills, OK?”

“ _One_ more minute, but then it’s home time.” Bob watches Jack glide in lazy circles before miming shooting an invisible puck at the opposite goal. He spots Browny making his way back to the ice, and decides that enough is enough.

“Jack, I need you off the ice now, please.”

“But I’m just still skating now. We can go home later when I score five more goals, OK?” He grabs his stick and skates off, trying to balance it on one finger. When it inevitably falls, he kicks it grumpily and bends over to pick it up.

Before he knows what’s happening, Jack’s sitting on the ice.

He looks around, seemingly surprised by his location, and bursts into shocked tears.

Bob jumps off the bench and runs onto the ice in his boots. He kneels in front of Jack and hugs him close. Jack sobs into his shoulder, his arms tight around Bob’s neck.

“You’re OK, sweetheart. You’re going to be just fine. Are you hurt?”

Jack shakes his head miserably, nuzzling into Bob’s neck as he shudders out sob after sob. Bob strokes his back gently. He knows that Jack has a tendency to overreact when upset, although he and Alicia aren’t trying to draw any attention to it. He’ll grow out of it. That doesn’t mean it’s not devastating.

“You’re fine, honey,” Bob murmurs in Jack’s ear. “You’re just fine. Just breathe, Jack. You’re OK. I know you were surprised, but you’re OK. I promise.”

“Is everything alright?” Browny calls.

Bob squeezes Jack, smiling when Jack wriggles impatiently even as he sniffs. “Yeah, I think so. He had a bit of a fall, but he’s just tired. He got up at the crack of dawn so we could go skating, although I had no idea that was the plan. Near scared me to death when he came into our room.”

“Poor kid. I know what that’s like. Carina has decided that she wants to be a ballerina – twice this week I’ve almost run into her in the hallway because she’s doing her stretches against the handrail.”

“Do you remember Carina, Jack?” Bob asks, standing up with Jack on his hip. “She was at your birthday party this year.”

“She gave me a coloring book and crayons,” Jack whispers in Bob’s ear.

“She sure did,” Bob whispers back. He places Jack back onto the ice, where the boy tucks himself behind his father’s legs. Even on skates, he barely reaches Bob’s waist.

“Are you going to say hello to Steven, Jack?”

Browny smiles kindly. “Hi, Jack. It’s nice to see you again.”

One of Jack’s eyes peers from around his father’s legs. He waves shyly, whispering a polite “Bonjour”.

“Don’t be rude, Jack,” Bob chastises gently. “We speak in English when we’re with other people, remember? Can you say hello?”

Jack’s eyes are huge as he shakes his head and hides again. Bob smiles at Browny apologetically, but his teammate gives him a pointed look.

Bob sighs. “Why don’t you go and take off your skates, Jack? I’ll be over in a minute – I don’t want to keep Steven too long.” Jack skates off shakily, still apprehensive after his spill.

“He’s still only speaking in French, hey?”

“He’s learning English,” Bob argues. “I mean, we speak French at home but his kindergarten is in English so … He’s just shy around other people, I guess. And freaked out by his fall.”

“Yeah, if you say so,” Browny says with a wince. “I just … My niece was a bit like that, didn’t really talk that much, only in some weird language, and it turned out that she had some developmental issue. Now she’s ten and in first grade. It works for her, but … Put my brother’s marriage through the meat grinder, I’ll tell you something.”

Bob does everything he can to keep his cool. “That’s not Jack. He’s fine.”

“I’m just saying, maybe you should get him tested. I mean, it’s a bit weird that he doesn’t really talk in English, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, thanks for your input, Steve, but he talks in French. When he’s comfortable, you can’t stop him talking. He’s just shy.”

Browny shrugs apologetically. “I don’t know, Bob. I mean, you know him best. But just be careful. If you leave this stuff undiagnosed for too long, kids can turn out weird. I mean, _weird_.”

Bob smiles coldly. “There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s fine just the way he is.”

He looks over to Jack, who has strapped on his Velcro shoes and is examining the loose tape hanging from the handle of his stick. “Papa!” he calls. “Can we please go get new tape for my stick? Mine’s white, which is OK, but I saw that Uncle Wayne has black tape and it looks really cool. Please.”

“I use white tape,” Bob says, walking over to Jack and ruffling his hair. “I taped it specially for you. What’s wrong with white tape?”

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with white tape,” Jack protests. “But black tape is really cool. And Uncle Wayne is really cool. Can he come for dinner soon, please? He always brings me presents.”

“Jack!” Bob tries to scold. “That’s not a nice thing to say. We like to see people even when they don’t bring presents.”

Jack pouts. “I know _that_ , Papa.” Then he cheers up. “But last time, he brought me a book about hockey and also a book about the history of Canada and it had pictures of a _battle_ and they had cool hats.”

“Wow! OK. Are you ready to go home, little one?”

“I’m not that little!” Jack shrieks. “I’m only four but when I’m twenty I’m going to be taller than you _and_ Maman. And probably taller than Uncle Wayne and maybe Uncle Mario and I’m going to be the tallest player ever.”

“The tallest player _ever_?” Bob replies with a smile. “Are you sure?”

“Tallest _ever_! Tall like a tree,” Jack giggles.

Bob glances over at Browny, who gives him a look before skating off. He’s distracted by Jack tugging on his hand.

“Let’s go home, honey.”

Fuck what other people think. Jack’s perfect.


	3. 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets it into his head that the world is going to end on 31 December 1999. There’s not a lot that Alicia and Bob can do to change his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m about Jack’s age, and New Years’ Eve 1999 was absolutely crazy. No-one knew what was going to happen. I got to stay up until midnight for the first time. My godmother won a giant Toblerone and we got to eat it. 
> 
> Truly a night to remember.
> 
> Also, Jack speaks French with his parents. Just something to bear in mind.

It’s the third day of the Christmas vacation and Jack is nowhere to be found.

“Jack?” Alicia calls up the stairs. “Sweetheart, are you up here?”

She doesn’t panic just yet. Jack has developed an extraordinary ability to vanish for hours at a time, reappearing with a book or curled up behind the curtains, daydreaming as he stares out the window.

Alicia pokes her head into Bob’s study. She almost doesn’t notice Jack until she looks behind the door – he’s sitting cross-legged with a _New York Times_ , his nose almost touching the print.

“Hi, honey!” she sings. “What are you up to?”

“Just learning about the world,” he says without looking up from the paper. “Did you know that everything is going to end on New Years’ Day? It’s called Y2K.”

Alicia stills, walking over to sit down and pull Jack into her lap. He goes happily, tipping his head back onto her shoulder. She slowly cards her fingers through his hair, trying to work out the most casual way to dismiss this errant thought.

“What did you say, honey? What do you mean, the world is going to end?”

“The world is ending in –” He breaks off, counting on his fingers. “– eight? No, nine days. Because all the computers don’t know how to do things when the year doesn’t start with a one. And everything is computers. And on New Years’ Day, the year won’t start with a one anymore.”

“I’m not sure that’s right, Jack. I mean, no-one knows _what’s_ going to happen, but the world isn’t going to end.”

Her son, as usual, has a one track mind. “The last time the year didn’t start with a one, it was the nine hundreds. And people were fighting with swords and writing on parchment and dying of the plague and stuff.”

Alicia always gives Jack credit where it’s due. “That’s true, sweetheart. But it was also a thousand years ago. We’re not going to start fighting each other with swords just because computers might have a little bit of trouble.”

“Anyway, back then, there weren’t computers, so obviously no-one knows what is going to happen. But it will probably be bad, and all the computers will stop working and supermarkets won’t run and we won’t be able to call Grandma and planes will crash. It’s going to be _so weird_. And then I guess eventually we’ll all die, because we have no food.”

“That is incredibly unlikely, Jack.”

“But it _could_ happen?”

“I majored in Comp Sci and have an MBA, and I’m happy to say that it’s not going to happen. Computers are really smart. But if I’m wrong, I give you full permission to say ‘I told you so’.”

“Really?” Jack says with a grin. He hasn’t been allowed to say ‘I told you so’ since Bob almost broke his hand catching a puck that he’d claimed Jack couldn’t hit with an umbrella.

“Yeah, sweetheart. But the world isn’t going to end.”

“OK, but what if –”

This latest question is interrupted by the slam of the front door downstairs. “Anyone home?”

“Papa!” Jack shrieks, and jumps out of Alicia’s lap, running down the corridor. “How was your trip? Your goal was amazing, I couldn’t believe it when Sebastien –”

She listens as he runs down the stairs, neatly avoiding the laundry basket sitting at the bottom, and launches himself into Bob’s arms.

* * *

Alicia almost forgets about Jack’s theory until she’s tucking him into bed on Christmas Eve. They had spent the evening sitting near the fire in the living room, carols playing softly on the stereo. Alicia had chosen a nice bottle of red which Bob had decanted, and they’d sat drinking it slowly while Jack had pretended that he wasn’t trying to work out the contents of each box with his name on it.

Alicia sits down on Jack’s bed to kiss his head, smoothing his unruly bangs off his forehead. He’s overdue for a haircut, but has been resisting for some reason. She’ll bring him around eventually.

“Are you excited for Christmas, honey?”

Jack contemplates this question very seriously for a few minutes. “I think so. Christmas is always fun, even if Grandma isn’t coming this year. But we have people coming and there will be presents, and maybe we can play shinny if Uncle Mario brings his skates.”

Alicia smiles. “I think your papa told _everyone_ to bring their skates, sweetheart.”

Jack sits up with a start. “Even Clarisse?”

“Even Clarisse. Don’t tell anyone but she’s getting her first skates tomorrow morning. Maybe you can teach her?” Clarisse, Jack’s cousin, is three years old and the apple of his eye. He’s been waiting to get her on the ice since she learned to walk.

“Finally! Oh my gosh, I’m going to teach her so good! I’ll –”

“So _well_ , Jack.”

“– show her all the coolest tricks and she’s going to go so fast! Because I’m teaching her! And I’m a really fast skater! Oh, but I’ll have to show her how to stop. Because I don’t want her to crash into the wall or she might get hurt. What was the first thing I learned to do, Maman? Was it go fast or go slow or stop? I can’t remember, because I was so little, but I’m sure I could ask Papa, I guess he remembers, but –”

Alicia is already regretting starting this topic of conversation, so she pulls out her trump card. “Jack, honey. Lie down, please? If you don’t fall asleep soon, Santa won’t come.”

Jack’s eyes go wide. He’s at that age where he’s not entirely convinced of Santa’s existence, but he’s not yet willing to tempt fate. He lies down with a disgruntled flop, although his bad mood leaves as quickly as it came on.

Alicia kisses him on the forehead, and makes to leave the room. Before she can, Jack calls out to her again.

“Maman, I keep forgetting to tell you. I think at 11:55 on New Years’ Eve, we should turn on the computer and then we can watch it click over to midnight and maybe it will catch on fire. Or blow up! Or maybe it will just go black and we’ll know that everything is over.”

She sighs. “Or maybe it will be just fine, baby. Time to sleep, OK?”

“Yeah, but if it _isn’t_ just fine, maybe it will –”

Alicia doesn’t have time for this. She’s got Bob waiting downstairs with a bottle of wine. “Jack. Darling. It’s going to be OK. Can we deal with this in the morning?”

Jack yawns. “ _Fine_ ,” he murmurs, already falling asleep.

* * *

Alicia falls into bed, happy but exhausted in a way that is only possible after Christmas Day or the Fourth of July. She sleeps so deeply that she almost doesn’t wake up a few hours later when their bedroom door swings open quietly. Years of parenting have fine-tuned her senses, however, so she sits up with a start, eyes darting over to the slit of light pouring in through the doorframe.

“Maman,” a quiet voice whispers. “Can I come sleep with you guys?”

She breathes a sigh of relief when Jack comes into view, one hand clutching his ratty stuffed penguin tightly. “Are you alright, honey?”

“Yeah, I guess. But can I come sleep with you?”

Jack hasn’t snuck into their bed since he was about six. She’s usually the disciplinarian but there’s something in his voice that indicates that something is very wrong. But it’s the middle of the night and she’s more than half asleep and they can deal with it in the morning.

“Of course you can, Jack. Come here.” She pats the space between herself and Bob, and Jack vaults her to crawl under the bedclothes. He sneaks his head onto Bob’s pillow but grabs her hand tightly. She doesn’t let herself fall asleep until she hears his breath even out, his body relaxing.

The next morning, Jack has managed to roll onto his stomach _and_ spin around so that his legs lie across Bob’s, his arms hugging Alicia’s waist. He wakes by degrees, adjusting and digging an elbow into her chest, kicking his feet into Bob’s sides, burrowing his nose into her stomach.

“Jack, sweetheart,” Alicia says patiently. Jack lets out an indignant grunt and burrows further into her side, digging his heels further into Bob. “ _Jack_. Honey. Please stop, you’re hurting Papa. Stop kicking him.”

“Sorry, Papa” comes his muffled voice.

“It’s OK, kid,” Bob says, spinning around so that he’s facing Alicia and Jack. He plants a loud kiss on Jack’s cheek, and the boy groans.

“Papa, you’re so _embarrassing_.”

“Who am I embarrassing? Am I embarrassing you, Alicia?”

Alicia grins. This is a familiar game in their house. “No, Bob. You’re not embarrassing me. Are you embarrassed, Jack?”

“Yes!” he answers vehemently.

She smirks before blowing a raspberry on his arm. “Are you embarrassed now, Jack?”

Jack giggles and shrieks, shying away from his mother. “Yes! Maman, stop!”

Bob wraps Jack in a tight hug, nuzzling him for a moment before licking his ear. Jack screams. “Papa!”

“Oh, are you embarrassed?”

Jack tries to squirm back to his mother, who grins and sticks her tongue out. “You’re both so gross,” he mutters, folding himself into a little ball. Alicia can tell that he’s laughing despite himself.

“Happy Boxing Day, Jack,” Bob says with a smile, kissing Jack’s hair. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

Jack unfolds himself from the foetal position and flops onto Bob, nuzzling into his neck affectionately. “I guess. I like my new stick.”

“And your games?”

“Yeah, I guess. But my skates were the best. And my stick. And my stick tape. And the book about the Habs. Oh, and my jersey. I want to hang it up today, please.”

Alicia can’t help but giggle, rolling her eyes at her husband. No matter how many times they try to buy Jack age-appropriate presents, nothing can top the hockey stuff.

“What do you want to do today, Jack? Do you want try out your new skates with Papa? I’m not sure if you guys can get into the rink today but we can just go try them on the pond. I’ll even bring my skates.”

Jack is silent for a minute, which is strange. Normally he’d be leaping out of bed at the first suggestion of getting into his skates. But now he just buries his head deeper into Bob’s side and shrugs.

Bob catches Alicia’s gaze over Jack’s head, and widens his eyes slightly. It looks like she’s taking point on this one. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

There’s a moment of silence. And then, “I don’t want the world to end.”

The mood in the room changes so quickly that Alicia is almost surprised she doesn’t hear a whip crack.

She can see Bob breathing in and out steadily, trying to find the words that Jack needs to hear. “The world isn’t going to end, kid. It’s going to be just fine.”

“But you can’t know that! The _New York Times_ said that no-one knows what’s going to happen, that’s the whole problem! Maybe everything _will_ go to pieces and then we’ll all starve to death or be killed by people with axes who are trying to get into our kitchen, and then rats will –”

“I know you’re scared, Jack,” Alicia interrupts gently, before that thought comes to fruition. “But I promise you the world isn’t going to end. And if it does, we’ll all be together. Papa and I will take care of you whatever happens, OK?”

Jack shivers. “I don’t want to die.”

“Oh, Jack,” Bob murmurs gently, hugging him tighter. “Kid, you’re going to be alright.”

Alicia isn’t sure if she’s relieved or shattered to see that Bob is as worried as she is.

* * *

Fifteen minutes until midnight.

The party is in full swing. The music is pumping from their new speaker system, the wine is free flowing, there are people everywhere and Jack is –

Actually, Alicia isn’t sure where Jack is.

She’d expected him to be playing with his cousins or their friends’ children while doing his best to hide from his parents. Out of sight, out of mind? Something like that. Jack has never been allowed to stay up until midnight before, and he’s spent the first few hours of the party catching his mother’s eye and ducking into the next room with a mischievous grin. As if his permission to stay up was accidental and would be revoked if they noticed his presence.

She makes her way over to her husband, currently speaking with her sister, and interrupts him gently. “Sorry, guys. Bob, do you want to get everyone outside? The fireworks should be starting soon.”

“Of course, honey.” He kisses her cheek with a smile, then pauses and looks around. “Where’s Jack?”

“I was just wondering that. Let me run upstairs – he’s probably in his room.”

Alicia pulls her heels off before bouncing up the stairs, trying to work out how much longer protocol dictates that she stay in her uncomfortable clothes.

“Are you up here, baby? It’s almost time for the fireworks.”

She pokes her head into Jack’s room, into Bob’s study, into the bathroom but he’s nowhere to be seen. Then she hears a small whimper from their bedroom and knows precisely where he is.

When he was little, Jack used to hide in their closet when things became too loud. They would often find him under her dresses or folded into a ball amongst the shoes. Alicia turns on the light and peers into the closet.

Jack is sitting with his head on his knees, arms around his legs. He’s sobbing silently, and Alicia’s heart almost snaps clean in two.

“Hi, honey. Can I come over to you?”

Jack looks up with tear-filled eyes and nods slowly. Alicia barely has time to sit down before he grabs her hand frantically, pulling her closer. She kisses his hair gently, trying to soothe him as best as is possible. He hasn’t been this upset for a while.

“Are you OK, beautiful?”

He pauses for a moment, sniffing intermittently. “It’s only a few minutes to go, Maman. A few minutes until the computers all die and the world changes.”

“Darling, we’ve had this conversation. The computers are very smart and they’re going to be just fine.”

“But if they’re not, they’re going to break and everyone’s going to kill everyone and –”

Alicia feels like she’s torn in two. Jack obviously can’t be left alone, but – “Jack, honey, I have to go back downstairs. I told your aunt that I’d be right back for the fireworks. Do you want to come? It’ll just be for a minute and we can come back up.”

“No. I can’t. Please don’t make me go downstairs, there’s too many people and –”

“I’m not going to make you, baby. Are you going to be alright by yourself?”

“Can you go and get Papa? You can watch the fireworks then, but … Maman, please, I don’t want be alone –”

“Of course I will, baby. Just wait right here.”

She takes the stairs two at a time, sprinting out onto the patio in her bare feet and thanking the saints above that Bob is so tall.

“Bob, Jack needs you. He’s just in our room.”

Bob is clearly concerned, but he knows better than to draw attention to Jack’s disappearance. “Is everything OK?” he murmurs in her ear.

“Not really,” she whispers back. “Remember the other night? We’re on the final countdown.”

“Calisse,” he mutters. “The poor thing, I’ll go right up. Do you want to come?”

Alicia wants nothing more than to huddle in the closet with her baby and hide him from every one of his fears, but they’ve got a crowd to entertain. “I guess I should stay here. He’d be so embarrassed if people noticed he was missing.”

Bob smiles tightly before running back into the house and through the kitchen. Alicia takes a minute to gather herself before the fireworks begin, painting the sky blue, red and green.

Bob’s sister-in-law sidles up to her, nudging Alicia’s side affectionately. “This is so amazing! I can’t believe you’ve got such a good view out here. No cloud cover, either!”

Alicia nods. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

Sarah gasps at a particularly loud burst, then pauses to look around. “Wait, where’s Bob?”

Alicia takes a moment to decide the best way to proceed. She goes with “Jack’s not feeling well, so Bob’s sitting upstairs with him.”

“Oh, the poor thing,” Sarah says. “What a shame that he’s missing the fireworks – are you sure you can’t bring him downstairs for a few minutes? He was fine before.”

“These things happen,” Alicia says with a shrug. “It’s been a big evening.”

“He’s a bit … mercurial, wouldn’t you say? Remember his birthday? And Bob’s birthday? And Easter? He’s not great with crowds, I guess. Some kids aren’t.”

“Jack’s just fine,” Alicia says firmly. “He’s just overwhelmed, I’m sure. I don’t think he’s been sleeping well.”

“What a shame,” Sarah repeats. “As long as he’s happy.”

Alicia excuses herself a few minutes later, and sprints up to Bob’s study. Jack is sitting on Bob’s knee, shaking gently with grateful tears. When Alicia makes her way over to the computer, she can see the date stamp on the toolbar.

_Jan-1-2000 12:03_


	4. 2004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alicia makes her directorial debut. The pressure gets to the whole family.

Bob has always enjoyed interacting with fans. It’s by no means his _favorite_ part of the job, but there is a certain thrill in seeing the light in someone’s eyes when they realise that the man standing in front of them has his name on the Stanley Cup five times. 

Ever since he retired, he has been trying to do as much charity work as possible. He feels like he’s always visiting a hospital or a peewee team, donating gear or posing with kids at tournaments. 

Even when he goes to Jack’s games, he finds himself signing more autographs than he ever expects. If he’s honest with himself, though, Bob knows that Jack still hasn’t forgiven him for missing his first hatty because he was waylaid on his way back from the restroom. Jack has made plenty more since then, but any seven-year old would have been disappointed.

Despite all of this, he silently curses the man who stops him a block from his destination. Alicia is going to have words for him, no matter how much he protests that he did his best to get there on time.

“Mr Zimmermann, sir, I … I can’t quite believe it’s you. I’m so sorry, do you have a second to sign something for me? I just —” 

Bob plasters on his best charming smile and gives the young man an autograph, a photo and five minutes of his time. He can’t be rude to fans, no matter how much he wants to run — he’s seen Alicia’s colleagues dismiss people out of hand, and they’ve both sworn not to do that. 

As soon as he can get away, he’s jogging down the street and into the building where he’s supposed to be. A few minutes later, he’s stepping out of the elevator and into the meeting room of Alicia’s publicist.

He feels like a naughty schoolboy as he opens and shuts the door silently, ignoring the daggers which are being shot in his direction. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, cherie,” he murmurs in Alicia’s ear. “You wouldn’t believe the number of people who stopped me, I swear I left early but somehow —”

Alicia giggles. “I feel like I can imagine, honey. We’ll talk about it later, OK? Calvin only has another ten minutes before he has to head over to the theatre and apparently there are more logistics involved than I could ever have realized.”

Alicia’s publicist stares at Bob until he sits down, chastized. “I’m sorry, Calvin.”

He shrugs. “It’s fine, it’s not like we’ve got a red carpet set up for your wife which is going to be teeming with press in two hours.”

Calvin has never liked Bob. Bob’s not entirely sure why, but he thinks it’s something to do with him not being good enough for Alicia. Which he knows, but it hardly seems like Calvin’s place to tell him.

Alicia raises her eyebrows at him, and Calvin smiles tightly. “Anyway, as I was saying before you arrived, red carpet starts at 6.30 and the curtain will go up at 8 sharp. Alicia will be giving a short speech at 7.55, so she’ll need to be in position at 7.45. This gives her precisely one hour and a quarter for the red carpet and mingling before it’s time for the show. Time is going to be of the essence.”

“Isn’t that enough time?”

Calvin fixes Bob with the most disparaging look he’s received since he asked Jack what Pokemon was. “The directorial debut of such an iconic actress is bound to attract a larger crowd than we would normally get at these documentaries. The struggles of children in elite sports … It’s exceedingly niche, but with Alicia’s name attached, it’s made a lot of people curious. I anticipate that we’re going to get bigger numbers at the carpet than we think. There are over eight hundred seats in the theater and they sold out in two days.” 

Alicia takes off her glasses to rub her eyes tiredly, then readjusts. “OK. So. It’s going to be a madhouse. I assume I’m walking the carpet with Bob?” 

Calvin grimaces. “We’re actually going to have Bob walk with Jack, and you’re going to walk alone. You’re going to have enough people wanting to talk to you about the film, the subject matter, the shift in direction, without throwing hockey questions into the mix.” 

Alicia turns to her husband, looking slightly overwhelmed. “Is that OK, babe? I know you don’t love the publicity stuff, but I —” 

Bob shakes his head. “Honey, this day is about you. Not me and not Jack. We’ll just blend into the background and tell everyone how great you are. You should go focus on your adoring fans. They’ll be excited to see you.”

She smiles gratefully at him and turns back to Calvin. Twenty minutes later, they’re back on the street and hustling back to the hotel where a room is set up for Alicia to get ready. When they arrive, Alicia throws open the door and heads inside, where her stylist, hair dresser and makeup artist have been preparing for an hour. 

“Alicia, sweetheart, you’re late,” she’s told.

“Meeting with Calvin ran over,” she apologizes. “I’m so sorry, it’s just been a madhouse.” 

Bob kisses her quickly before leaving. He can tell when he’s not needed.

He makes his way down the hall and into the suite where they stayed last night. Premiering the film in LA was huge news for Alicia’s career, but involved more travel than he’d done in a while. Not to mention Jack having to miss two practices. He had been less than thrilled when he’d found out.

Speaking of Jack, Bob isn’t surprised to see him lying prostrate across the king-sized bed next to the window, headphones on and eyes closed.

“Jack? You awake, kid?”

Bob can’t quite make out what music Jack is listening to, but it’s loud enough that it can’t be good for his eardrums. He walks over to the bed and taps the teenager lightly on one arm, and Jack startles upright.

“Oh my God, Papa, you’re the worst. Don’t do that!”

Bob grins. “Sorry, kid.”

Jack lies back down grumpily. “What?”

“What what?”

“What do you _want_?”

“Less attitude, Jack. I’m just telling you that we have to go in about an hour so it’s almost time to go shower. Do you know which shirt you’re wearing? Does it need ironing?”

Jack rolls his eyes. “The white one, I guess.” He pauses. “Wait, can I wear jeans?”

It’s Bob’s turn to roll his eyes. “Absolutely not. Your mom is making her directing debut, aren’t you proud of her?”

Jack sits up and looks at his father seriously. “Of course I’m proud of her, it’s pretty cool that she’s done this. But why do I have to wear a suit?”

“Because I said so?”

Jack’s grumpy façade cracks. “You’re so embarrassing,” he laughs.

Bob grins. “That’s my job, kid. What are you going to do with your hair?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll brush it.”

Bob sighs and leaves him alone. Behind him, he hears Jack start the music again.

* * *

Bob straightens his bowtie and checks his hair in the hotel mirror one more time. Jack has been in the bathroom for a few minutes now, so he’ll have to believe the shoddy lighting in the main room. Plus, all eyes are going to be on Alicia – he’s just there for moral support.

 “Jack, you ready to go? Your mom’s almost done with hair and makeup so I guess she’ll want to leave in about five minutes.”

There’s no answer.

Bob sighs. He’s not sure when it happened, but Jack has hit that grumpy teenage phase with a vengeance. He’s still a sweet kid, but he’s speaking less, spending more time locked in his room.

“I know this isn’t really your scene, kid, but your mom has worked so hard and we need to – Why are we talking through the door? Can I come in?”

There’s a small sound from the bathroom and Bob’s stomach drops. He pushes the door open gently and looks in.

Jack is curled into a ball, pressed into the space between the shower and the sink. His forehead is on his knees; his nails are digging into his palms; his breath is shallow. When Bob lays a gentle hand on his forearm, Jack looks up with tear-filled eyes before pulling his knees closer to his chest.

This has been happening with increasing regularity. Bob has been wondering whether it might be time for Jack to go to a specialist, or at least discuss it with their GP. Alicia agrees, but they can hardly force Jack to see someone if he doesn’t want to.

The increasing regularity doesn’t make it any easier to see.

“Hey, Jacky,” he says softly. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

Jack shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, so Bob sits down on the tiles and tries to work out what to say. When Jack panicked as a younger child, Bob and Alicia would sit with him and help him breathe, talk to him about everything and nothing until he wrapped his arms around their necks and cried it out. Now, he’s too busy trying to be an adult that he doesn’t accept their help until he’s almost catatonic.

“Is there anything I can do?

Jack sniffs miserably and shakes his head, but doesn’t move otherwise. They sit silently, Bob trying to focus on anything but the dripping of the shower.

The main door of the suite opens and closes. Bob makes to stand up, but Jack’s hand darts out and grabs his sleeve before he can move.

“Bob? I’m finally done, thank fuck. I swear to God, no-one cares as much about my eyebrows as Sandra. Are you ready to go?”

Bob smiles softly at Jack before calling back, “We’re in the bathroom, Alicia.”

“Are you still getting ready? Wait, are you in there with Jack? We need to get moving if we’re going to have enough time to – Oh, sweetheart.”

She moves into the bathroom, resplendent in couture and hair impeccable, and kneels next to Bob.

“Alicia, sweetheart, your dress.”

She glares at him for a second. “Dior can suck it, Bob. Jack, baby, are you OK?”

Jack’s breath catches on a sob. “Maman, I’m so sorry, I know that this is –”

Alicia looks heartbroken. “Oh, _Jack_. Don’t apologize for a second, OK? I don’t care, sweetheart. I don’t even need to go if you want me to stay here, you’re more important than some film.”

Jack’s eyes go wide and he starts, painfully, to hyperventilate again. Bob’s heart almost breaks clean in two. “You can’t do that for me, Maman, I just – I’m so sorry. I know how important this is to you. I can just – I can be better, I know I can, just give me a minute, I’ll –”

Bob swears under his breath, tears coming to his eyes.

“Jack, honey, I need you to breathe,” Alicia murmurs, voice breaking. “It’s going to be alright, you’re going to be just fine. I know it’s scary, but I need you to breathe. In and out, sweetheart. That’s it. In and out. You’re doing so well. Everything’s fine, baby, I promise.”

It takes almost twenty minutes to get Jack’s breathing back under control. Eventually they manage to get him off the bathroom floor, back into the bedroom and changed out of his suit. He lies under the covers, hugging a pillow with one eye on the History Channel, while Bob and Alicia try and work out what to do.

“I can’t leave him like this,” Alicia whispers miserably to Bob. “I just – I _can’t_ , Bob.”

“Just go for the carpet,” he whispers back. “Give your speech and then sneak out a side door when the lights go down. I promise I won’t let anything happen to him.”

She grimaces but says goodbye to Jack carefully. He hugs her like he’s scared he’s going to break when she lets go, and she’s wiping her eyes when she finally stands up again. “I love you, baby. I’ll be back soon, OK? Can I bring you anything?”

He shakes his head and burrows further under the covers.

Bob kisses Alicia goodbye at the door. “Try and enjoy it, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

She smiles sadly. “I’ll try.”

* * *

“The film promises to be extraordinary! I assume it was inspired by your own family – as everyone knows, your son is an excellent hockey player. Taking after his father, no doubt.”

“Thank you! Yes, Jack is incredible. He’s going to be heading to the Q next season, which … I suppose that was part of the inspiration for this film. Taking children out of their home environments, expecting big things of them … It’s difficult enough to keep your head in the sporting profession as an adult, let alone as a child. I’m very fortunate to have a personal perspective on both of those experiences.”

“Speaking of, where is Jack tonight? I’m sure a teenage boy wouldn’t enjoy all of your films, but this one must be right up his alley!”

“Oh … he wasn’t feeling well so Bob stayed home with him. He’ll be fine, he just needed to take the night off. I think he’s coming down with something.”

“Oh, what a shame to miss the premiere. He must be devastated.”

“I’m sure he’ll survive.”

“It’s _such_ a shame that he wasn’t able to drag himself out of bed for your directorial debut. It only comes once, after all. Teenagers … They’re so difficult to manage.”

“My son is ill and back at the hotel. I feel terrible that I’m not there with him now, and I certainly don’t expect him to jeopardize his health for me.”

A pause. “Thank you for your time.”


	5. 2008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack overdoses. Alicia tries to wrap her head around it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't in line with [please try to be patient](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6607273) mainly because that work is sf sad. @ past me: why did i do that.

Alicia closes the front door, walks to her car, gets behind the steering wheel, pulls the door shut and bursts into tears.

She’s been doing that a lot lately.

Not heaving tears which come from the root of her gut. Not the trickle of tired eyes after a night without sleep. Just the overwhelmed, frustrated tears of a mother who is trying to get through each day.

After the first tense days in the hospital ( _bob_ _pick_ _up_ _god_ _damn_ _it_ _they_ _found_ _him_ _he_ _’_ _s_ _in_ _the_ _er_ _he_ _’_ _s_ _having_ _his_ _stomach_ _pumped_ _he_ _’_ _s_ _scared_ _he_ _’_ _s_ _going_ _to_ _pull_ _through_ _he_ _promises_ _it_ _wasn_ _’_ _t_ _intentional_ _oh_ _god_ _how_ _did_ _we_ _let_ _it_ _get_ _this_ _bad_ ), a doctor had pulled Alicia from the room where Bob and Jack were dozing in unison and quietly, calmly, handed her a leaflet on the best clinic in the area.

“It’s what he needs, Alicia,” the doctor had insisted, surnames long since abandoned. “This wasn’t a one-off … It’s been a long time coming. Jack needs to go somewhere safe, where he has people to talk to. People who can help him.”

 _He_ _can_ _talk_ _to_ _us_ _,_ she wanted to scream. _We_ _can_ _help_ _him_ _._ But she had mustered that Oscar-winning poise and nodded. “Whatever you think is best.”

The doctor had smiled and carried on with the staunch determination of a woman on a mission. “This isn’t an option. There’s no way of knowing whether he’s going to fall into the same habits as soon as he gets out of here. I know you want to take him home but you need to make sure that this doesn’t happen again.”

And the thought of another phone call ( _mrs_ _zimmermann_ _it_ _’_ _s_ _me_ _yeah_ _we_ _were_ _out_ _tonight_ _i_ _know_ _but_ _i_ _can_ _’_ _t_ _find_ _jack_ _anywhere_ _he_ _’_ _s_ _not_ _answering_ _his_ _phone_ _i_ _’_ _m_ _looking_ _i_ _’_ _ll_ _call_ _you_ _once_ _i_ _’_ _ve_ _checked_ _the_ _bathroom_ ) had sent a shard of ice through her heart.

And now here she is. On her first visit to the clinic.

The first month was no visitors, no contact and she’d spent her nights watching infomercials and replaying the last few years in her head. Clues were combed over with a precision that would put Sherlock Holmes to shame – every lazy postcard, every worried email from a billet parent, every slurred apology, every evening spent talking Jack down from another panic attack. The last attack, when she had gently asked whether he should talk to his GP about adjusting his dose and he’d never phoned in tears again.

The last conversation before he was admitted ( _please_ _don_ _’_ _t_ _make_ _me_ _i_ _don_ _’_ _t_ _want_ _to_ _maman_ _i_ _’_ _m_ _so_ _scared_ _can_ _’_ _t_ _i_ _just_ _come_ _home_ _papa_ _i_ _promise_ _this_ _won_ _’_ _t_ _happen_ _again_ _i_ _just_ _i_ _wish_ _i_ _know_ _i_ _can_ _’_ _t_ _please_ ). Having her bag emptied. Dropping him at his room. Trying to be strong for him. Closing the door.

“We’ll phone you if there’s something you need to know, Mrs Zimmermann,” the nurse had reassured her. “But he’ll be fine. We’ll get him back to you in one piece.”

She sits up, dries her eyes and fastens her seatbelt. Visiting hours are set in stone and she doesn’t want to lose a minute.

She drives as if in a dream, the GPS chirping instructions from its home in the console ( _left_ _,_ _right_ _,_ _follow_ _the_ _road_ _,_ _left_ _,_ _third_ _exit_ _on_ _the_ _right_ _,_ _you_ _have_ _arrived_ _at_ _your_ _destination_ ). Pulls the car into a free space, shifts it into park, removes her seatbelt, takes a deep breath. Checks her phone. One text, from Bob ( _Meeting_ _ran_ _over_ _,_ _I_ _’_ _m_ _so_ _sorry_ _,_ _I_ _’_ _ll_ _be_ _there_ _as_ _soon_ _as_ _I_ _can_ ).

Alicia climbs down from her SUV and closes her eyes, just for a moment. Just to refocus. Because this isn’t about her, it’s about Jack, who has been in this building alone for a month, missing them, wanting to come home. She just needs to – to see him. To hold his hand. To check that he’s making his way on this journey that he shouldn’t have to take, let alone without his parents.

The winding path to the office is lined with shrubs. The air is fresh and smells of summer. The sun beats down on her head and she hates every inch of it. Loves every inch of it. This building which is holding Jack hostage, cleaning the chemicals from his system and retraining his brain and keeping her from him.

She shows ID at the desk, smiling politely at the looks of recognition. “My husband will be here soon, but I’ll go through now if that’s alright.”

The nurse looks flustered. “Oh, my … Of course, Mrs Zimmermann. Please come over here. We’ll just check your bag and pockets quickly and then you can go right in.”

 _Why_ _would_ _I_ _try_ _and_ _smuggle_ _anything_ _in_ _?_ she wants to scream. _I_ _want_ _him_ _out_ _of_ _here_ _._ _Can_ _’_ _t_ _you_ _see_ _that_ _?_ _I_ _need_ _him_ _free_ _and_ _healthy_ _because_ _we_ _came_ _so_ _fucking_ _close_ _to_ _losing_ _everything_ _–_

“Thank you for that,” the security guard says with a smile. “The visitor’s room is down the hall on the left. You won’t be able to miss it.”

She makes her way through the double doors and into the corridor, sneakers thudding on the linoleum, and down to the visitor’s room. It’s full of soft couches and tables and chairs. Patients who look like they’d rather be anywhere else and visitors trying to make up for lost time.

Jack is curled on the couch by the window. He looks tired. There are circles under his eyes and his hair is too long and he’s staring vacantly outside like he’s waiting for the leaves to share some unspeakable truth and she’s never been so happy to see anyone in her entire life.

She walks over quietly and sits down next to him, tucking her feet under her. “Hi, stranger.”

Jack looks up slowly like he’s seen a ghost, mouth curling into a relieved smile that Alicia never wants to see again. “Maman! I – I thought you might have forgotten.”

She reaches out and grabs both of his hands. “It’s all I’ve thought about for weeks, baby.”

He blushes, suddenly shy, and leans over to hug her. Alicia has never been one for half-measures, so she reaches back and pulls his face into the crook of her neck with as much strength as she can muster. She feels Jack sigh against her, his arms coming around her back.

“I’ve missed you. So much.”

“We’ve missed you too, honey. Your dad’s coming too, he’s just been waylaid temporarily.”

Jack nods against her shoulder. “OK.”

She smiles softly. “OK.”

After a few minutes, Alicia pulls some strings and gets them permission to go walk in the garden. They slowly wander through the trees and sit in the grass, Jack sharing hesitant stories about group therapy and the food they’re eating and how he didn’t sleep for a week when he first arrived. “I was just … so lonely. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, Maman, they were all just trying to find out what had happened, get some gossip. I … I sat in my room a lot. I missed you guys. I missed – Well, anyway. It sucks here.”

“I know, honey. You’ll be out as soon as you’re ready.”

“Yeah. Soon, I hope.”

“Me too, baby.” 

Bob arrives eventually, spilling over with apologies, and hugs Jack for longer than is strictly necessary. When they pull apart, they’re both wiping their eyes and Alicia is, ironically, so happy. They’re all together. They’re all alive. Jack is healing and is going to come back home to them and thank fuck for that.

It could, so easily, have worked out differently.

* * *

**Zimmermann** **Overdose** **Rumours** **Substantiated** **  
** Montreal Gazette – 28 minutes ago

 **Alicia** **Zimmermann** **Looking** **Haggard** **As** **Son** **’** **s** **Alleged** **Overdose** **Confirmed** **  
** People – 14 minutes ago

 **Alicia** **Zimmermann** **Photographed** **in** **Public** **for** **First** **Time** **Since** **Son** **’** **s Cocaine** **OD** **  
** Us Weekly – 4 minutes ago

 **Alicia** **Zimmermann** **Spotted** **Visiting** **Son** **in** **Rehab** **–** **See** **the** **Pic** **!  
** Entertainment Tonight – 1 minute ago

* * *

Hi Susan,

I’m sure you’ve seen the articles (just as an example: one, two, three, four) but it’s time to put out a statement. Here’s a suggestion if you need somewhere to start.

> FUCK ALL OF YOU. I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I STILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS SHIT IN 2009. YOU SHOULD ALL BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES. I’M PHOTOGRAPHED VISITING A HOSPITAL IN JEANS AND YOU DECIDE THAT (1) YOU’VE PROVEN THAT MY SON HAS OVERDOSED ON COCAINE AND (2) THAT YOU’RE ENTITLED TO WRITE ABOUT THIS??? MY SON IS IN HOSPITAL AFTER A SERIOUS MEDICAL EVENT AND YOU’RE TURNING THIS INTO SOME MEDIA CIRCUS. IF I HEAR ABOUT ONE MORE CAMERA BEING SPOTTED OUTSIDE THAT CLINIC I WILL PERSONALLY MAKE SURE THAT NONE OF YOU EVER SEE A PHOTO OF ME, MY FAMILY OR MY FRIENDS EVER AGAIN. CELEBRITY ‘JOURNALISTS’ ARE THE SCUM OF THE EARTH AND HONESTLY? GO FUCK YOURSELVES.

So, yes. See what you can do with that.

My love to Dana and Matthew,  
Alicia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> those headlines were inspired by articles i found while trying to work out how gossip rags write about this sort of stuff. poor angelina jolie. 
> 
> also, come say hi on [tumblr](http://murrayhewitt.tumblr.com) if you so desire.


	6. 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finds a way to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so this fic comes to an end. Just banged this out over the course of about two hours, if I’m going to be honest with y’all. Please let me know what you thought – I really love playing with Bob and Alicia and will probably continue to do so in the future :)

 

> **Bob:** Is Jack with you?  
>  **Alicia:** babe he’s with you  
>  **Alicia:** wait are you serious rn  
>  **Alicia:** BOB i thought you were taking him to the mall  
>  **Alicia:** those hideous shoes are more hole than shoe at this point!!!!!!!!  
>  **Bob:** I’ve been in a meeting for the last three hours!!  
>  **Alicia:** then where???????  
>  **Alicia:** oh wait  
>  **Alicia:** ffs not again  
>  **Alicia:** it’s 4:10, he’ll be at the rink with clarisse  
>  **Alicia:** if i get one more angry call from steve i’m going to ban him from taking her  
>  **Alicia:** and if he doesn’t replace those freaking shoes soon i’m going to buy him a new pair and he’ll have no choice but to wear them  
>  **Bob:** PLEASE DO THAT  
>  **Alicia:** lol  
>  **Alicia:** you home for dinner?  
>  **Bob:** Yeah I think so. I’ll get the cab to drop me at the rink and Jack can give me a lift home. Do you want me to cook?  
>  **Alicia:** pls  
>  **Bob:** You’re so hip with the kids.  
>  **Alicia:** IKR!!!!!!!!!  
>  **Bob:**?  
>  **Alicia:** I KNOW RIGHT  
>  **Bob:** haha  
>  **Alicia:** xoxo

* * *

Bob directs the taxi to pull into the parking lot of the local rink and drop him off near the door. Although he doesn’t mind being noticed, per se, trekking from the road just feels like he’s begging to be asked for autographs.

He makes his way indoors, grinning at the guy manning the counter. Tom and his colleagues have become familiar faces, what with all the time that Jack has been spending at the rink. Bob had, of course, offered to ask if he could use the Habs facility but Jack hadn’t wanted to run into any ‘uncles’ off-guard.

“Hi, Thomas.”

“Mr Zimmermann!”

“How’s it going, kid?”

“I’m pretty good, can’t complain! Are you looking for Jack?”

“As always,” Bob says with a smile. “Any chance he’s around?”

“Of course,” Tom laughs. “Didn’t you see Hayley out the front?”

Jack had invested in a car with tinted windows when he got sick of either being photographed or sitting at home watching infomercials. For a fuck-off SUV, it was surprisingly fuel-efficient and as safe as it could be in the snow. Jack adored it and had named the car Hayley, after Hayley Wickenheiser. ‘If this car is half as reliable as she is,’ he’d said seriously, ‘it’ll be everything I need.’

Bob had half-heartedly tried to convince Jack to buy a Porsche or a Ferrari, a car that he could have fun in. But his boy was sensible to his core, and would take nothing less than a 4.5 with four wheel drive. Bob had contributed a pendant to hang from the rear view and called it a day. It was still hanging next to the icon of Saint Frances of Rome. Catholic roots run deep.

“I wasn’t paying attention, to be honest,” Bob says. “I was too busy trying to get a park without hitting any of those kids. Must be a popular place to be – they were everywhere!”

“Yeah, we’ve got them coming in all afternoon. It’s a summer camp thing. They’re staggered, so it’s almost time for the … 11-12s, I think? Unless Jack is sticking around for Clarisse’s practice, he should be free soon.”

Bob cranes his neck to peer through the window. He can make out Jack at the other end of the smaller rink, skating backwards as he talks to his cousin who is valiantly trying to keep up with him. “Do you mind if I head through for a minute? I just want to see how long he’s going to be.”

“Go ahead, dude. I mean, Mr Zimmermann. Sorry!”

“All good, kid.” Bob shoots the teenager a wink before heading through the doors and into the chill of the rink. He slowly makes his way to his son, watching the four- and five-year olds being put through their paces before reaching the practice rink where a number of kids around Clarisse’s age are warming up.

“Jack Laurent, please tell me you told your uncle that you were picking her up!” Bob calls in French over the noise of two boys screaming as they race around the boards.

Jack speeds over and slammed into the boards with a grin, hair sweat-tousled. “I always take her on a Tuesday, Papa, you know that!” he replies. “Uncle Steve has that meeting and Aunt Sarah is at work, so I go get her and we chill before her practice.”

“Then why is your maman telling me that she’s getting angry phone calls from Steve?”

Jack makes a face. “It was one time!”

Bob narrows his eyes. “Jack.”

“It was a misunderstanding, Papa, I swear! I thought I was picking her up and he didn’t. We sorted it out eventually.”

Bob isn’t entirely sure when Jack became Clarisse’s babysitter but, to be honest, anything that gets him out of the house is A-OK.

Clarisse finishes her lap and skates over, coming to a more delicate stop than Bob could ever hope to manage. “Jack, we only have a few more minutes until practice. Can you time me again?”

“Are you sure? You don’t want to get too tired.”

“Oh my God, you’re not my mom!” Clarisse says with complete sincerity. “Please?”

Jack shoulders her. “One more time, then it’s time to get some water and head over to the other rink.”

“Fine!”

Bob can see Jack trying to swallow a smile as he puts on his best Coach Face. “Alright, you ready?”

“Yes, Jack! God!”

Jack narrows his eyes at her, then looks at his watch. “OK … On your marks. Get set. Go!”

The girl zooms off into the distance, neatly avoiding a family with twin toddlers who are slowly making their way around the boards. She’s back before Bob knows it.

“47.8,” Jack says with a grin. “Good job!”

Clarisse smiles happily and wraps him in a hug. “Yay! You were so right about bending my knees more! It feels kind of dumb but that’s the best time today!”

“You’re a superstar, sweetheart,” Bob chimes in. “Looks like we’ve got another professional in this family’s future.”

Jack’s eyes go wide and painfully sad, and Bob regrets mentioning it immediately.

The moment is broken by the announcement over the PA. “Eleven and twelves to the big rink, please! Team selection in in two weeks so it’s time to hustle!”

Clarisse gives Jack another hug, leans over the boards to give Bob a kiss on the cheek and then speeds towards the door, bumping into a friend on the way. The two of them clamber off the ice and towards the other rink, giggling.

“Jack, honey …”

“I’m OK, Papa. Honestly. Just … give me a minute.” Jack skates off to the opposite side of the rink and starts doing laps, dizzyingly quickly.

Bob makes his way to the bleachers and sits down, head in his hands for a minute before he remembers he’s in public. He smiles politely at the woman staring at him before pulling out his phone.

 

> **Bob:** OK so I just mentioned going professional to Clarisse and Jack ran off  
>  **Alicia:** ok  
>  **Alicia:** thanks for telling me  
>  **Alicia:** you didn’t do anything wrong

They’re trying to help each other through this, have been since Day 1, but sometimes Bob slips. His niece has been an excellent skater since Jack first helped her onto the ice at age three, and it had seemed like the right thing to say. At the time.

It still terrifies him, how fragile Jack is. Had always been, he supposes. But Jack’s toddler tears could be scared away with kisses and ice cream and storybooks, his childhood fears herded away by cups of tea or talking it through on the sofa. He’s had one demonstration of how breakable Jack’s life is, and he doesn’t need a second one.

He senses a presence next to him and looks up to see Jack sitting down, tugging at the laces on his skates.

“You alright, kid?” he says quietly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking –”

Jack shrugs. “You were right,” he says, just as quietly. “She’s amazing. She could definitely go professional if she wants, she’s as good as I was at that age. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I know, Jack, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, OK? I’ll stop talking about it, I just –”

“Don’t be silly, you don’t need to stop talking about it. It happens, it’s fine, I –”

“It’s not fine, Jack. Please just accept my apology and –”

“You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me, Papa!” Jack bursts out. “I’m fine. I’m OK. Sometimes I freak out and it happens and it sucks, but there’s nothing you can do about it. If it isn’t something you say, it’s something that someone else says. Or that there’s too many people at the supermarket. Or a weird song on the radio.”

“Yeah, but –”

“There is no ‘yeah but’,” Jack groans. “Shit sucks. It is what it is.”

“I wish it wasn’t.”

Jack pauses his whispered tirade. “I know, Dad. So do I.”

Jack pulls on his sneakers and shoulders his bag, and they make their way towards the door. They’re quickly waylaid, though, by someone calling Jack’s name.

“Jack! You got a second, dude?”

“Sorry, Papa, just one minute,” Jack mutters. “I said I’d talk to him before I left.” He makes his way over to the coach of Clarisse’s team who is stretching against the boards. They have a conversation for a few minutes, Jack shaking his head before nodding slowly.

“Just think about it, OK?” the man calls.

“Yeah, OK.”

Jack makes his way back to Bob and they walk out quietly to Jack’s car. Jack’s clearly in the middle of some heavy thinking, judging by the deep wrinkle between his eyes. Bob yearns to reach out and smooth it away, Alicia-style, but he also wonders if he’s overstepped his boundaries enough for one day. “You want me to drive?”

Jack tosses him the keys. “Yeah, if that’s OK. Thanks.”

Bob climbs behind the wheel of the car and readjusts the seat. Jack gets in beside him and fiddles with the sound system for a minute until he hits the golden oldies station. He settles back into his seat

“You want to tell me what that was all about?”

Jack raises his eyebrows, sighing. “That was Clarisse’s coach, Lucas. He was just wondering if … if I was interested in coaching during the camp. One of their regulars fell through and he’s been phoning around but everyone’s booked up, so he was checking if I was free.”

Bob can tell that this isn’t the end of the story, so he waits.

After a minute, Jack continues. “And he said that, if I enjoyed it, they’re also looking for someone to coach Clarisse’s team during the season because he’s been called up to the AHL.”

“Oh, wow.” Bob pauses, unsure of what to say. “So … What did you tell him?”

“I told him that I’m not sure what I’m doing next year. That I’ve got a couple of college offers on hold and that I’d get back to him.”

“OK.”

* * *

“So, what are you thinking, baby?”

“I don’t know, Mom. I mean, it would be amazing. But, fuck … I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Of course you can. Hockey’s in your veins.”

* * *

“But Dad, if you were offered the chance to coach, would you take it?”

“I think so, Jack.”

“But what about college?”

“That’s a decision you have to make by yourself.”

“Please make it for me?”

“Oh, honey ... It doesn’t work like that.”

* * *

“But what if I take it and I’m terrible at it?”

“You’ll learn.”

“But –”

“There’s no shortcut to experience, Jack."

“But –”

"Just do the best with what you have, baby. That's all you can do.”

* * *

“Mom, Dad, I don’t know how to tell you guys this. Um … Oh my God. This is crazy. But. OK. Here it is. I think I’m going to defer college and coach the twelves for a year or two.”

“OK.”

“Please say something else!”

A smile. “Listen to your gut, honey. Do you think this is the right decision for you right now?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ve never been more proud of you.”

* * *

“Do you want me to contact someone at Susan’s office so we can put out a statement?”

“You know? I don’t think so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://murrayhewitt.tumblr.com) if you so desire.


End file.
